


Forest of the Dead

by Aseikh



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Serial Killers, Supernatural Elements, ask to tag, ig?, just in case someone might be bothered by that, people are hung, warning: murders are set up as suicides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6471937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aseikh/pseuds/Aseikh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Will gets asked to investigate a series of murders in the neighboring fief of Sandorne, he hardly expects the chaos he will find. Disappearing bodies, drunk officials, and curious little girls are only a small part of it, and the weave of a rope happens to be more important then previously believed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forest of the Dead

Will shifted his footing, and waved for Arald to continue. Already, this was sounding interesting, "Sorry 'bout that," the Ranger murmured, turning away from the window, "please, continue."

The Baron shrugged, and shuffled the pile of papers in his hands. "Well, with the Ranger being out from Sandorne, things have obviously escalated. When the news of the murders reached Duncan, he decided to send Halt back early to check things out. He told me to send you if things got worse before he got there."

"And I assume that means," Will held his hand out for the letter, the one from Duncan. Arald handed it over, and Will continued as he studied the paper, "that things have escalated?"

He already knew what the letter said, the Baron having already read it aloud to him, but he wanted to think without interruption

A murderer was apparently going around the neighboring fief making the murders look like suicides. They would take people from all over the fief - and just the single fief - and hang them in a forest. Normally, they would have been assumed suicides, but all of the victims were found to have been hit in the head before they had actually died. A few even had drugs in their blood. It was also alarming that all of the bodies were being found within a single forest, right in the dead center of the small fief.

Instead of studying the letter, Will let his eyes slid out the window once more, studying the tree branches that were just within reach.

The local Ranger of Sandorne wasn't there because they had retired, and it being a smaller fief, Crowley wasn't as concerned with replacing her. Now that there was a serial murderer running around, someone had to do something.

Will sighed, thinking, _I just got back from one mind-numbing mission, and now I get thrown into this._

"I really was reluctant with sending you, Will, considering you just got back from your previous mission. But Halt isn't here, and I'm supposed to send someone if things got worse," there was an apology in Arald's eyes, but Will shrugged it off.

"Well," he murmured, handing back the letter, "apparently things got worse."

Shrugging once more as he stood up to his full height, Baron Arald smiled, saying, "You're closer, but Halt will meet you there. Depending on the situation, either one of you will stay, or both. Good luck."

Taking the actions and placements into account, Will decided he would go to the forest where all of the bodies were being found. The fief being fairly small, and close to Redmont, the Ranger did have experience in the area, and knew his way around. There was actually a small village in the middle of the forest. Maybe it wasn't in the exact center, but it was fairly close. Ostar was barely more than a few cottages, and there wasn't even an inn. Could that even be considered a village?

After hearing the news of his new assignment from the Baron, Will had packed up, kissed Alyss goodbye, and left right away. There was still over half the day left, and it wouldn't take too long to get to Ostar. Plus, with a murderer running around, it was probably best to get a move on.

At the moment, the sun was reaching the horizon, peeking just above the forest in question. Overshadowed by the sun, the usually bright and natural looking forest seemed ominous and nearly otherworldly.

Unconsciously, Will shivered as he urged Tug towards the trees.

That was one of his first mistakes of the next few days.

* * *

He was halfway through the forest when he heard the creaking. Being sadly familiar with the sound, and having the previous knowledge of how the bodies were being found, Will slowly pulled Tug to a stop. Glancing up into the branches above him, he began looking for the body. He knew they would be hanging by their necks, at least five meters off the ground. Their hands would never be tied, but there was normally a bump on the back of their head.

Just as expected, a pair of bare feet were dangling just a few meters above his head.

Will quickly dismounted, and whispered, "Stay here, bud," to Tug. Moving over to a tree, Will studied the branches above him. He'd have to get as close to the body as possibly, and higher than the victim's head, to be able to cut them down. Taking hold of a low branch, Will hauled himself up, and began climbing. It wasn't long until he was of height with the person.

They must have been a farmer, from the rural areas of the fief. From the color of his face, and the stiffness in the way he hung, it was obvious that they had been there from some time. Probably at least a week. One who had never been found.

Reaching out, Will wrapped a hand around the unfortunate man's wrist. No pulse, if he wasn't obviously dead already. But the clammy and cold feeling of the dead flesh sent a shiver up the Ranger's spine, and he quickly drew back.

 _Should I cut him down?_ Will glanced downwards, knowing that he was a good seven meters up. If he cut the noose, the body would slam to the ground. He grimaced at that thought. Even though the person was dead, that seemed a bit cruel. Will shook his head, and drew his hand away from where it had drifted towards his saxe. If he did decide to cut the person down, he'd have to do something with the body. It was nearly dark, and he didn't exactly have the supplies or manpower to be able to bring the man to Ostar. So, leaving the man up there would be his best bet. Cutting the person down would mean he would be left on the forest floor overnight, giving access to the man's flesh to any forest animal that wanted a snack.

Shaking his head, Will began to climb down the tree, intending to continue on to Ostar.

A branch cracked.

He froze, his foot hanging halfway down to the lower branch. Off balance like that, he wobbled partially, and his hand instinctively reached for something to steady him. He expected for his hand to find the trunk of the tree. He didn't expect it to find the face of the deceased.

"What the-" Will jerked away, flinging his hand away from what he thought he felt. But as the jerk pushed him completely off balance, he saw the body hanging on the _other_ side of him, just before he fell.

Dry branches lashed out at him, whipping by as he fell. _Oh, no, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna-_ Will reached out, wrapping his entire arm around a thicker branch. Something dug into his leg, swiped at his face, wrenched at his arm, but nothing stopped him as he fell. And then—

Will slammed into the ground beside Tug, landing flat on his back. His vision blurred momentarily, before he shut his eyes. "Aaahhh," he groaned, and rolled over on his side, drawing his legs up to his chest. "Damn it," he muttered.

Beside him, he heard Tug snort, and move around. Seconds later, a wet nose bumped his shoulder. "I'm fine, Tug," Will said, rolling back onto his back. Opening his eyes, he stared up into the branches. There was no longer any body hanging above him. His eyes went wide, and he began to search the foliage more frantically, searching for the dead body. _I should be right below it . . ._ Will paused, then shut his eyes tight, before reopening them, and looking up once more.

Still no body.

Sucking in a breath, Will sat up. He couldn't trust his own sight at the moment. But he had felt the cool flesh, recalled the creaking sound as the rope stretched and caught the wind.

Shaking his head, he quickly glanced over his body. There were a bunch of random cuts and rips in his clothes, and he had a feeling he wrenched his shoulder. Feeling a throbbing in his leg, Will looked down, and saw a huge cut through the side leather of his riding boot. Groaning, the only thing he could think about was the _time_ it would take to fix them.

Looking at the gash once more, Will realized that fixing them would be out of the question. He would have to get new ones.

* * *

The village was bigger than what he remembered. Last time he had been there, it had been a one road village with a few cottages and no inn. There was still no inn, but more houses had been built, and the few that had already been there had been expanded.

It was already dark, and the forest that surrounded them made it all the more darker.

Will knew where he had to go, but wondered if they were already asleep. Most houses already had lights doused, and curtains pulled. No one wandered the streets with him, and no one seemed to hear Tug's soft hoofbeats.

When Will had still been in the Ward, there had been a girl who had been a year older than him, named Isla. She had come into the Ward late, so she remembered her parents, and talked most days about them. She and Will would sometimes sit up, sometimes with others, and Isla would tell him about having parents, and what it would be like. Her mother had been Chubb's head assistant, while her father had been a sergeant in the castle guard. Her father had died early on, in the first war with Morgarath. She didn't have much memory of him, but she heard plenty of stories from her mother, who had been left to raise her daughter by herself. Chubb understood, and had given her more time off to care for her.

When Isla was old enough to look after herself, her mom went back onto full-time working with Chubb, and was later even allowed to work in the kitchens with her mother, usually kneading dough. A few years passed, everything was good.

Then Isla's mother caught a flu, and it went downhill from there. She wasn't able to work, so Isla took her place, and Chubb was fine with that, and continued to give her mother's pay to her daughter. Isla used the money to pay the doctor, but nothing the doctor did helped her mother. A month later, and she was dead.

Isla was sent by Chubb to the Ward, promising her a spot as one of his apprentices when she was old enough. She was fourteen.

She was only at the Ward for a few months before her aunt and uncle picked her up, and brought her to their small house in the middle of the neighboring fief of Sandorne.

Every once and a while she would come back, and she and Will and the other Wards would meet up, telling stories and reminiscing. Will had ended up helping her one time, and that was why he'd been to Ostar before, and knew his way around the forest.

Although the streets had somewhat changed, as well as the houses, Will was able to recall the location of Isla's house. She was married now, and lived separately from her aunt and uncle, who had also moved to a larger town in Sandorne. Her husband ran a bigger business, and their houses was now one of the larger ones.

Luckily, the lights were still on when Will climbed the front steps, leaving Tug at the base of the steps.

He limped as he made his way to the door, and hoped he didn't looked pitiful. Knocking, Will wrapped his cloak around him, feeling the chill in the early spring air.

The door was flung open seconds later, and who stood at the door made Will pause. A young girl, probably no older than six, stared up at him with large blue eyes, framed by long black hair that reached her waist. A nearly perfect model of Isla, but quite a few years younger . . . then he remembered who she was.

A large grin broke out on Will's face, but before he could say anything, a voice yelled from within the house, "Lacey! Don't open the door to strangers, you should know better than that!" A woman in a red skirt came forward, drawing the little girl behind her, before looking who was at the door so late.

This time, Will spoke first, "Isla!"

Recognition flashed in the woman's face, before she opened the door wider to step out on the porch. "Will!" She exclaimed as she stepped forward for a hug. The two old friends embraced briefly, before she drew back. She reached back, and brought the little girl, Lacey, to stand beside her. "You remember mine and Liam's baby right? Well, she's grown a little since you last visited."

Lacey giggled, and slipped out of her mother's grip, running back into the house. Will smiled, nodding, as he watched the little girl run away. "She looks just like you," he said.

Isla smiled, and beckoned back into the house. "Come inside, we were just about to eat a late dinner."

Will shook his head, however, as he stepped inside. "No, I don't want to impose. I probably won't be here long, and I didn't mean to get here so late . . ." He trailed off, running a hand through his hair.

Shaking her head, she lead him to the stairs at his side. "That's fine. Also, I can tell just from looking at you that you're exhausted," they reached the landing, and Isla paused, and turned to face Will, "Why are you here, though?"

He hesitated only a second, glancing behind him to see if Lacey was nearby. "You've probably heard about the recent murders . . ." He didn't have to finish his sentence.

Isla's eyes darkened, and she frowned. "You're here for that?"

Will nodded, and followed as Isla began walking again. She stopped at the end of a short hallway, motioning towards the door. He recognized it as the same one he'd stayed in before. Glancing back down the hall, Will saw that there was still plenty of room. Looking back to Isla, Will smiled, "I assume Liam's business is doing well. What does he do again?"

Raising her eyebrow, Isla crossed her arms. "Assist me in my sewing business and helps sell them."

* * *

Will got up early the next morning, but as he quietly made his way down the stairs, he turned up the hall to see everyone already awake. Lacey sat at a fireplace by herself, her long hair still in a mess from her pillow. Isla and Liam, her husband, were moving around the table and kitchen quietly, having not noticed him.

To his side, a room stood open. Isla's work room. It was filled to the brim with fine fabrics, and colorful dresses and doublets. He had known she was good at what she did, but he didn't know that she was _that_ good. Even though he wasn't the most formal or noble person, he could still tell when something was of value. Glancing down the hall to Liam, Will was satisfied to see a short sword buckled at his side, something that seemed to be worn often. Isla herself also wore a dagger at her side, which was partially hidden from Lacey. Looking back into the room, he noticed something larger than just a dagger and a short sword strapped underneath the table.

Satisfied that they had substantial security for the business that was obviously sustaining the family of three, Will turned back down the hall. Isla smiled, and set out a small bowl of soup for him. Liam waved to him, but slipped past on his way out. Evidently, he had some business to attend to.

"Why don't you go sit with Will at the fireplace, Lacey?" Isla murmured, motioning Will towards the banked fireplace. It was a few moments before Lacey decided to join him, plopping to the floor with a piece of warm fresh bread in her hand. Spooning his soup, he ducked his head to slurp it in.

"Oh!" Lacey said to herself, jumping to her feet with the bread in her mouth. She ran back into the kitchen where Isla stood, and stood on her tip toes to reach onto the table. She snatched another piece of bread off the table, and skipped back over to the fireplace.

"Would you like some bread, Uncle Will?" Lacey asked, a wide smile on her face.

Will raised an eyebrow at the nickname, glancing over to Isla, who had the same expression of surprise on her face. When their eyes met, the dressmaker shrugged, and gave a small smile before going back to whatever she was doing. Will looked back to Lacey, who still had the expectant smile on her face, and her hand extended with a piece of cooling bread in her hand.

Reaching out, Will gave a smile in return. "I'd love some bread, Lacey, thank you," he said sweetly.

He chomped into the bread, keeping his eyes on Lacey as he exaggerated a groan of pleasure. She giggled, and dropped back to her knees next to him, and together they stared into the fire as they finished their bread.

"Will?" Isla asked from behind him. When he turned, she wiped her hands on her dress, which fortunately wasn't one of the expensive dresses of the fabric in her work room. "I need to run upstairs and change. Keep an eye on her?"

Nodding, he picked his soup back up. "I'll be here," he raised his bowl in a sort of toast, and turned back to Lacey as her mother walked out of the room.

The moment Isla's feet faded on the steps, Lacey excitedly shoved the rest of her bread into her mouth, and turned to Will. "You're here for the people being killed," she stated, an eager smile on her face.

Frowning, Will quickly thought back to when he had spoken to Isla about why he was here, but knew that the little girl hadn't been around at all. Pursing his lips, he set his bowl down, and looked back up to Lacey. He said, "Now why would you think that, little girl?"

"Because you wouldn't be here," she said simply.

Taken aback by her bluntness, the Ranger sat there in stunned silence for a few minutes, staring blankly at the child. Then he blinked. "Well, you're definitely a smart one, aren't you?"

Lacey beamed, "Dada says I take after Ma," she said proudly. It was only a few moments before she tried again, "You're looking for a killer," the eagerness in her eyes returning.

Will shrugged, not wanting to divulge information to a little girl. It wasn't that he thought she would go blabbing, but he didn't want her to go to bed to nightmares, and have Isla after his hide. "You're in no danger, darling," he tried instead, considering that she might be afraid, "both of your parents are armed well, and wouldn't let anything happen to you."

Scrunching her face, Lacey stood, and walked back to the table to fetch more bread. Once more, she came back with two pieces, and held one out to Will, "I know, and my Dada is better with his sword than most people in this place," suddenly, she leaned in covertly, a mischievous smile on her face, "but I can help you."

That's when Will realized what this was. She was looking to get in on something, something her parents wouldn't approve of. He was the perfect chance too, someone who goes through and deals with dangerous things all the time. She just wanted part of the thrill. Instead of reprimanding her, he decided to see what she had to say, and let her down gently. Later, he would tell Isla. "And how would you do that?"

Seemingly happy that he was going along with what she was saying, Lacey scooched closer to him, so they were nearly nose to nose. She whispered, "Some strangers have been here," she took a breath, and continued, "no one noticed when they first came, because they stayed in the woods. But when I first saw them, the day after a body was found," she paused.

Without meaning to, Will had frowned, actually considering what she was saying. He said, "That doesn't mean anything, Lacey. It could mean a lot of things—" he broke off when he heard steps coming down the hall.

"Lacey? Would you come up to get dressed, please?" Isla called down partway the hall. "You and I have things to do, as does Will, so let him finish his breakfast," with that, she turned back around, and walked back towards the stairs.

When Will looked back to Lacey, the eager, excited look had deflated to a tired, disappointment. She pouted at him, and stood to follow her mother.

He had to force himself not to call back to her, knowing that if he encouraged her thrill seeking, it would just get worse. Sighing, Will stood, taking his finished bowl of soup in hand. He walked over to the kitchen, debated on just setting it to the side, or washing it. But then his eyes landed on a small pile of dishes, waiting to be cleaned. Glancing out the window, he saw that he had been sitting around for longer than he thought. He felt bad for leaving the bowl there, but he set it on the counter, collected his cloak and things from his room, and slipped out the door. He had a murderer to catch.

* * *

It wasn't too hard for him to collect information, even with how much the town had grown. Even though the last time he'd been here was more than four years ago, most people still remembered him. He had no reason to go about disguised, and even so, it would have been pointless. Either way, he doubted that anyone here would have done the killing. The town was small enough that everyone knew everyone, and someone would have noticed if someone else had been acting oddly.

And the person would have been acting oddly, having killed so many people.

So far, he'd spoken to quite a few people, starting near the market, and going where he would find more people. He stopped at a bar, where he knew gossip would be aplenty, and saw that it would be better if he came back later.

Most people said the same things. Murders didn't come everyday, but there was at least one a week. No one from town had ever been taken, but they had been dumped with the duty of dealing with the bodies. If they found a new one, they would send a rider to Castle Sandorne, who would send someone to identify and figure out who the family was. Soon enough, the person was just told to stay in Ostar, and was staying with the blacksmith. Will made a mental note to go talk to him later.

A few people mentioned a caravan, who had come in a few weeks after the murders had started. Apparently, they hadn't heard of the killings, and were staying in the forest, until one of them had come into town to sell some of their things. That's when they overheard news of the killings. According to most people, they left the forest, but others say that one or two of them still come in to sell some of their wares.

During his time out, he saw Liam, Isla's husband, speaking with someone he didn't recognize. The stranger had a nice medium tan, and dark hair, so he didn't seem to be from the area. Maybe he moved here? Will considered going over, but didn't want to interrupt, so instead turned to speak to an older woman who was selling candles. She had nothing new to add to what he already knew, but when he turned, Liam saw him, and called him over.

Will nodded his thanks to the woman, and reluctantly went over to join Liam. "Liam, didn't get much of a chance to say hello this morning," he clapped his hand on the man's shoulder, nodding to his companion.

Liam smiled, "Ah, yea, sorry about that, I had to meet with Sebastian, and I was already late," he trailed off awkwardly. After a few moments of silence, the Ranger growing increasingly uncomfortable, Liam finally blurted out, "So, ah, Will, this is my friend Sebastian, but everyone really calls him Baz, and Baz, this is my and Isla's old friend, Will. We met when he helped me with that incident out east."

That seemed to surprise Baz, "You're friends with a Ranger?"

Before Liam could respond, Will decided to quickly deal with the situation, and get out of there, before anything else could happen, "Unfortunately," he said, "most Rangers get a bad rap just for being Rangers. Either way, Isla and I knew each other from before I went into Ranger training." At that, Baz seemed to realize that what he said had been rude. Before Baz could apologize in any way, Will continued, "Either way, I have to continue working, see you around," and he moved to the side, and was off in the crowd before either Liam or Baz could say anything.

Sighing, he moved around town, hoping not to see either Liam or Baz, knowing it would just be an awkward encounter. He knew he would have to speak with Liam later, since he was staying at his house, but that was for later. "Guess I'll go talk to the guy at the blacksmith's."

Will knew the blacksmith—his name was Wyatt. Nice guy. He got the name for the visitor from Castle Sandorne, who was called Asher, and a brief description. Blonde hair, usually pulled into a ponytail, a sharp face, dark eyes. Nothing like most of the people here, who had dark hair, dark eyes. Usually.

He walked up the steps on the smithy, seeing Wyatt at the table, banging away at some piece of metal sheet. After a quick exchange, Will learned that Asher was currently inside, downstairs in an extra room, going through a log of victims. He gave Will leave to enter his house, but warned that Asher sometimes could have a temper.

The Ranger shrugged at that, and nodded his thanks.

Inside, he went down the steps, and went through the door, knowing that the basement was mainly used as storage, and that there was a backroom that Asher was using, that was about the size of a bedroom. He went through the storage room, ducking around a few shelves, before getting to Asher's room. At that, he knocked.

"What d'ya want?" A voice slurred out. Wyatt hadn't mentioned that he was a drinker. Great.

"My name is Will Treaty. I'm a Ranger sent to investigate the deaths, I just have a few questions for—"

"Go away," he slurred again. Seconds later, there was a bang, a sound like clanking glass bottles, and then silence. Warily, Will tested the handle, and found it unlocked. Inching it open, he peeked in.

On the ground, a middle-aged man with a rough, blonde pony-tail and unshaved scruff looked up at him from the ground, having fallen off the bed. Around him were a few wine bottles, still rolling from when his body had rolled off the bed and onto them.

Sighing, Will pushed the door as far as it would open, and leaned over the man. Dragging him onto his side so he wouldn't vomit in his sleep and choke to death would be his best bet, because Asher wouldn't be helping him anytime soon. Looking around the small room, his eyes landed on the log book.

Will stepped over Asher, sitting on his bed, and picked up the book. Inside were names, or placeholder names, for every victim, along with a brief description and the date they were found. Quickly, the Ranger pulled a sheet of paper from his bag at his side, and scribbled a note on it, saying who he was, and what had happened. Also, that he was taking the book.

With that, he stood, stepped over Asher, and closed the door. On his way out, he made sure to tell Wyatt, the blacksmith, that Asher was currently 'indisposed', and probably wouldn't be out for a day or two. They shared a smile, and Will was off.

It was only midday when he walked away from Wyatt, and he flipped through the pages while he walked the streets of Ostar. Out of curiosity, he glanced through the later dates, looking for a description that would match the man he had seen the night before. None came close.

"Uncle Will?" Will stopped midstride, focused in on the book. Turning around, but not dropped the book, he turned to see Lacey standing behind him, Isla nowhere in sight.

"Lacey? Aren't you supposed to be with your mother?" He snapped the book shut, shoving it into his bag. Lacey wasn't wearing a dress anymore, and was actually wearing boy's clothes. They were covered in mud, and her long black hair was pulled up in a ponytail—which was more elegant than Asher's.

She shook her head vehemently, crossing her arms, "No, Ma and I did everything this morning. I'm playing with my friends now."

Will crossed his arms, mimicking Lacey's stance, "When do you have to be home, little girl?" he said chidingly.

Beaming, she said, "Before dinner."

They shared a smile, Will comforted knowing that Lacey wasn't hurt over his reaction that morning. It seemed she had nearly forgotten about it.

As she turned around, running back down the street, he found that he wouldn't mind to have her as an apprentice. She was inquisitive, and definitely observant. He wasn't sure how Isla and Liam would take the news if it ever happened, however.

Upon seeing her, actually, had recalled everything he heard about the travelers. Even though he doubted it would go anywhere, he knew he would have to go talk to them, at least to know if they saw anything.

He pulled out the book, flipping it open to a random page. Most of it was empty, there only being about two dozen murders, but still, the number was big. The page he happened to flip open to was blank, so he flipped back a few more pages as he walked. Within the middle of the blank pages, a random doodle was scratched into the page.

At first he couldn't tell what it was, so he paused once more in the road. It looked like some sort of braid, although the weaving was odd. It looked like Asher had colored in each separate strand, when he could think straight, so it was easy to see the pattern in the braid. But personally, Will couldn't recognize the pattern.

Shrugging, he flipped back to the names and descriptions, and continued to walk to the edge of the town. He would walk to the travelers, knowing from a few collected snippets from the townspeople that they were actually still nearby.

* * *

There were eight of them all together. Four men, four women, working together around a large fireplace. Making no effort to hide himself, almost all of them saw him approach before they were in speaking distance. They were smart enough to be camping in an open clearing, so someone would have to reveal themselves to approach. Unless you were a Ranger, of course. But since Will didn't want to hide himself, they saw him.

To get to them, he had to walk through a big chunk of forest, and through there, he studied the type of trees that inhibited the area, as well as the ground, although he doubted there would be any clues there. Most of the trees didn't have low hanging branches, but if he jumped he could reach one and pull himself up.

"What'cha want, stranger?" one of the women called, glancing up from where she bent over some kind of rope that she was working on with two of the men.

Will raised his hand in greeting, knocking down his hood with his other hand, figuring it would be a sign of friendly intentions. He stepped closer, saying: "Hello, my name's Will, and I'm looking into a few crimes that have happened in the area." He dug into his collar, pulling the silver oak leaf on its chain into view. "A few people in Ostar mentioned you've been around, and I just wanted to know if you've seen anything suspicious around recently?"

That made everyone in the camp pause. Most looked surprised, even a little scared—but not the type of scared where they were afraid of being found out. It was actual, primal fear. Crimes were happening, and they seemed to only survive by selling things that they made themselves, and if they had to, their own personal possessions. A crime wouldn't be good for them.

Except, at the words _a few crimes_ and _in the area,_ two of the men in the back exchanged glances.

He pretended not to see, focusing on the woman who had spoken to him first. One of the men beside her looked Will over, taking in the bow slung over his shoulder, the knives at his side, and the small piece of jewelry that meant so much. "What kinda crimes," the man asked, "and is my family in danger?"

 _He's the boss,_ Will decided. By then, he decided who was who. The man was obviously in charge, and the woman who had spoken first seemed to be his wife. One of the woman, older just like the first, was probably a sister of either the man or woman. Another of the men was probably her husband, and whoever was left seemed young enough to be the assorted children: four boys and two girls.

From their initial reaction, and the questions the older man posed, Will was able to comfortably assume that they had nothing to do with the murders. As they talked, he got names as well.

Brain was married to Giselda, and those were who he was mainly speaking to. Yelsa was Giselda's sister, who was married to Hunter, and Mary, Diana, and Erik were their children. Brian and Giselda only had one kid, who was named Kile. The two men who were the furthest from him weren't related at all, and had asked to travel with them after they left a town in Hibernia because another murderer was going around. Their names were Nico and Alonzo.

Which, for some reason, Will didn't buy.

The main group of them was upset because they couldn't seem to escape circumstances that drive them from a place they were thinking of settling. Everyone nodded at that, even 'Nico' and 'Alonzo'.

They seemed friendly enough, the group of them, even though Will only spoke to Brian, Giselda and Hunter. The children were shy, but had said goodbye when he stood.

Before he left, however, he eyed the group, giving them one last look over. "You'll come find me if you notice anything?" he asked, his eyes going back to Brian.

He nodded, a determined look in his eye. "I will, Ranger," he seemed to hesitate, but then said, "With this news, sir, I'm thinking of getting my family out of here. I don't want to lose anyone . . ." he glanced back to his wife, who nodded, and turned away to speak with her sister. Brian continued, "You see, Kile used to have an older brother . . . we left Hibernia fast after he disappeared—"

Will held up a hand, "I understand, Brian. You don't have to resurface a bad memory just to get yourself out of suspicion. Just—come back to Ostar when you do finally leave. I might be able to help you, at least to find a place where you can stay."

Brian nodded, smiling grimly. He held out a hand, and Will smiled, and reached out to clasp it. "Good luck, Ranger," he said.

Smiling again, Will shook his head. "Friends call me Will."

* * *

It was late when he finally slipped into Isla's house. He knew they were probably sleeping already, so he closed the door silently. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, so he slipped past the stairs, heading for the kitchen. He passed the dress room, and glanced inside to see Isla's progress. A new sea green blue dress was wrapped around mannequin, simple in the way it wrapped around the waist, elaborate in the way the straps slipped up the sides, and up around the neck. He smiled, before walking silently down the hall.

His plan was to grab something small, like a block of cheese or bread, knowing Isla and Liam wouldn't mind, and then head to bed. But when he stepped into the room, his sight landed instead on the two figures sitting at the fire across the room.

Isla and Liam.

His friend was hunched over, seemingly sobbing into her dress. Her back rose and fell erratically as the sobs shook her body, and Liam tried to unsuccessfully comfort her. His arm was wrapped around her shoulder, while his other was gripping her knee, shaking it a little.

As he had entered silently, Will was able to hear what was being said.

"Isla, honey, we'll find her, okay? I'll go out, we know where she was supposed to be—"

"No, no, Liam, don't go," Isla sobbed, "you could be taken too."

Liam sighed, not knowing what to say. The worry was etched into his face. "Babe, we don't know that she was taken, okay? Will has been looking for whoever's been killing everyone very diligently. I saw him today, at work. She just stayed out late, with her friends."

"I saw Gabby go home, she passed right by the front of the house," she moaned in response, "and Sabriel, she was with her. She's gone, gone!"

She resisted as Liam tried to pull her to him, pushing away. Sobs wracked her body, and as she tried to stand, she fell to her hands and knees.

Will had witnessed enough. Hunger forgotten, he stepped forward, purposely making himself heard. "What the hell happened," he asked, masking all emotions. He needed to know.

Isla didn't move, but Liam jerked up, surprised by the sudden new voice. He must've looked different, because Liam hesitated saying anything, his eyes racking over Will.

And then: "Lacey."

Everything went cold.

He let the satchel drop from his side, where it landed on the floor with a slight thump.

"Tell me," was all he said.

In a few minutes, Liam quickly explained the situation while Isla still lay slumped on the floor, gasping for a breath before the next sob shook her body.

Lacey went out with friends after helping her mother for a few hours in the work room. She went with two others, the ones Isla mentioned before she broke down completely: Gabby and Sabriel. Isla told her to be back before dinner, and Will was able to quickly affirm that she knew that from when he met her on the street earlier in the day.

"Where was that?" Liam asked suddenly, upon hearing when Will saw her.

"Over by Wyatt's, the blacksmith's."

Liam shook his head, but continued to explain things to Will. "She sometimes goes out to play in the forest, but she knows not to go out there now with what was going on . . ." at that, a horrified look came over his face. "We should have never let our little girl go out alone."

Will shook his head. "No one has ever been taken from Ostar, with all the victims there's been, that probably means they would never take from here. Too risky."

"Too risky?" Liam asked.

Nodding confirmation, Will continued: "There's not that many people here. Someone would notice nearly right away." At that, Will motioned to Liam with one hand, and Isla, who had quieted down, and was sitting numbly in front of the fire. "It hasn't even been a day."

Standing, Will snatched the fallen bag off the floor, slinging it back over his shoulder. "You stay here with Isla," he said, "If it is them, then it'll probably be dangerous." Liam seemed to want to argue, but his eyes flicked back to Isla, and he seemed to come to a decision.

Nothing else was said while the Ranger slipped back down the hall, towards the front door, instead of the bed behind him. Just as he opened the door, however, he heard Isla say her first words for a long while.

"If Will can't find her, no one can."

It wasn't hard to find out where the girls had been playing. He quickly stopped over to where the girl Gabby lived, and her mother quickly got out of her where they had been playing, and why they hadn't come home with Lacey. Apparnetly, they had been playing hide 'n seek, and neither Gabby nor Sabriel could find Lacey after a few hours. They decided to go home, figuring that Lacey thought it would be funny to go home without telling them, and therefore play one of the best pranks ever. Upon hearing that her friend had never made it home, the other little girl burst into tears, and ran down the hall. Her mother quickly said good luck, and ran after her daughter.

Will went in the direction that he had been told, hopping atop Tug, and galloping down the street. He didn't care what noise he made, and people poked their heads out of windows. The next morning, they would obviously wonder what spooked the visiting Ranger so much, but hopefully nothing huge would turn out because of it.

When he hit the edge of town, a cloudy sky that he hadn't noticed broke. Rain poured down, startling Tug.

Knowing that any tracks would have been washed away, he continued.

"LACEY!" he yelled through the downpour. No response.

He dismounted from Tug, wondering if any of the trees could have protected tracks from this rain. He knew it was unlikely, but the thought of the little girl he had met last night staying out here all alone pushed him forward. He didn't know the time, only that it was late, and dark, and wet. Pushing on, he stepped forward.

His foot slipped in a puddle, taking his feet out from underneath him. His feet in the air, his back slammed to the ground, invoking the pains and bruises from his earlier fall from the tree the other day.

"You have got to be fuc—" he broke off before the rest of the sentence made it out of his mouth. Muddy water soaked through his already wet pants, and because of the way he fell, the back of his shirt was now no longer dry-ish, and the so-called water-proof cloak was hanging limply. Soaked.

Water seeped into the cut in his boot, his hood had been pulled off hours ago, and now—what the hell was he going to do now?

"I'll either get a cold," he muttered, his mood dropping, "or get a damn infection."

Will struggled to his feet, grabbing onto Tug's saddle to help hoist himself up.

Too late, Tug nickered.

Something swung down towards Will's head, but he saw it coming moments too late. He let go of the saddle, letting himself fall back into the mud. It missed his head, but whatever it was slammed into his shoulder instead. Pain flared as Will heard something go _crACK!_ in his shoulder. Cursing, he reached with his other hand around, unsheathed the saxe knife, and slashed out.

He must've hit something, because he heard a cry of terror, and something splashed into the ground beside him. Rolling away, Will stumbled closer to where Tug had stepped away.

But the forest was empty around him, when he finally got a look around.

A club lay abandoned on the ground near where he had been, but that was it.

Thunder boomed, and he flinched. The pain finally registered with him, and he quickly tucked his arm, his right, against his chest, knowing that he had broken something. That whoever had attacked him had broken something in his shoulder. Cursing again, he leaned against Tug, not knowing what to do. He couldn't look for Lacey in the condition he was in, nor in this type of weather. Looking around once more, he felt his gut drop.

He had no clue where he was.

* * *

Ostar was a ghost town by the time he made it back. It was early morning, the rain had stopped, but no one seemed to be in their houses, or even on the streets. He stopped in Isla and Liam's place, hoping to find the two in the main room with Lacey in between them, her having wandered back by herself. But the house was empty, upstairs and down.

"C'mon, Tug," he murmured as he walked down the main street, looking for anyone. Tug clopped behind him, nudging him in the good shoulder every once and a while, as if to say _maybe you should take a break._

"No, Tug," he would whisper back, "I need to figure this damn thing out."

As he walked further down the soaked street, he began to hear a crowd. And someone crying.

He turned a corner, and came upon the edge of the town to the west. Nearby was the tavern, and a copper, but it wasn't for some new draft of beer or some new barrels that everyone in town was crowded down this small street.

Walking forward, a few people turned when they heard Tug coming up behind them—even hurt, Will stepped silently unless he meant otherwise. Knowing what was coming, Will took ahold of horn on the saddle, leaning heavily on it. Taking pressure off his throbbing leg, which was probably infected from his treatment last night, he limped forward.

The crowd parted for him, giving him a clear shot of what was happening.

Clenching his fist against his chest, he reveled in the pain it brought to his shoulder. He stopped at the edge, looking down.

Three bodies. No, one.

A little boy in muddy clothes. No, a little girl.

Two parents unable to believe their loss. No, it had sunk in.

Why did it have to sink in?

Will swallowed, wanting to take his eyes off the scene in front of him, but forcing himself to take in every single detail.

Muddy boy's clothes, from playing in the mud. Black hair mussed up, even though earlier it had been in a nice ponytail. Skin apparently clammy, from the way her mother's hand stuck to her face. She must've been outside, possibly out the entire night, like he had, because her clothes were soaked. She was missing her shoes. There was a cut rope around her neck.

His eyes anchored on that detail. The rope. The twist was familiar. Familiar in its unfamiliar manner. He didn't have to open the book to realize that it would match the pattern sketched by the drunk in the blacksmith's basement.

Just like every rope that was used in the murders.

Straightening up, anger surged.

"Well?" He snapped suddenly. Around him, the crowd flinched. "What the fuck do you all think you're doing? Help them, for fuck's sake, or I'll help you into a damn jail cell." A few people moved away, while a few others stepped forward, mainly the family's friends, to help them. Will saw Baz step up, wrapping arms around both Liam and Isla, as well as Gabby's mother, and another woman he didn't recognize—Sabriel's mother, presumably.

As the rest of the crowd started to move from their shock, Will let go of the horn, and dropped the arm that he had still clutched against his chest. Pulling himself up onto Tug hurt, but he ignored the pain. Turning Tug's head, he moved around the grieving parents, not even stopping to say anything. The crowd, as it dispersed, made sure to stay out of his way as he nudged Tug into a gallop.

 _Maybe there's a reason smaller fiefs don't have as experienced Rangers,_ he thought numbly, remembering the flinches and the terrified looks some people had given him when he had finally spoke. _The one's who get things done do so roughly, and of course the people in smaller, less troubled fiefs wouldn't be expecting to be treated_ roughly _, especially from someone who is supposed to be protecting them. Of course, the experienced Rangers wouldn't be wasted on a small fief, but everything added up. I was experienced when I was graduated, but I was still given to Seacliff._

Having just rained, it was easy to follow footprints. He found some nearby the foot of a tree, and followed diligently on Tug's back. Slouched over his horse's back, he didn't register the throbbing pain in his shoulder, nor did he notice that when he collarbone broke, a part of it had broken through the skin, and now there was blood soaking into his sleeve. Even better: the cut in his leg from when he'd fallen off the tree had gotten worse, most certainly infected. And yet, he didn't notice.

The only thing he could see was the wrap of the thin rope around the little girl's thin neck, dark bruises marring the porcelain skin underneath.

The only thing in his head was the doubts that kept circling over and over and over.

_Could I have done more? Could I have protected her? Could I have prevented this fate?_

_If I had found her, would she be safe? If I had tried harder, would she be safe? If I had sent her home when I saw her, would she be safe?_

_What if I had done my job? What if I had caught the murderer already? What if they took her because of_ me?

Tug stopped abruptly. He hadn't been galloping the entire way, but the footprints didn't lead far. Will's heart dropped when he finally pulled himself from his thoughts.

A recently abandoned camp, with a large fire still smoking from having water thrown over it.

Brian, Giselda, Yelsa, Hunter, their kids, and the two mysterious men named Nico and Alonzo were gone.

* * *

Being a large group, they were easy to track in the mud. Most of the group had seemingly never left the spot, with only one or two footprints going off in a different direction. One went to the left, which made Will think of the attack he had suffered in the direction. Another pair had been the ones he had followed, all the way from the town.

He had no way of knowing if it was all eight of them, or just one or two, but either way, it was them he would have to follow. They were his only lead. The only people not present in the wake of Lacey's murder.

Riding all day, ignoring pangs of hunger, ignoring flares of pain, exhausted Will. As the sun went down, and the moon went up, and he was still trailing the group, Tug shook his head, snorted, and stopped himself.

Will jerked awake: "Wah? . . . Tug? Why'd you . . ." he paused, looking around him. It was early in the morning of the next day. Another sound accosted him, a growling that made him reach for his saxe, before he realized it was just his stomach. "I'm sorry, boy," he tiredly slurred, but then laughed, because he nearly sounded like Asher the drunk in Wyatt's basement.

Quickly, he slipped off Tug's back, and loosened the girth strap. He took out the foldable bucket, and poured some water in it, letting his horse slurp until he was content. Then he took out some grain, and put those in the bucket. Satisfied that his horse was cared for, he pulled out the spare cloak that was buried in his saddle bags, and pulled off his wet cloak.

Glancing down at the state of the rest of his clothes, he shrugged. What could he do? He would just get them dirty all over again. Throwing the wet cloak over Tug's back, Will wrapped the warmer one around him, curling up at the base of a tree. He was asleep instantly, exhaustion dragging him into a sleep, not unlike unconsciousness.

The next morning, he stood, and stretched himself. Seconds later, though, his leg gave out from underneath him, and a pang of pain in his shoulder made him go to his knees. Will gasped, and reached for the water skin—which was empty.

Groaning as he stood, Will leaned against the tree—with his good side—and looked around to see if there was a river anywhere nearby. If he remembered correctly, and if he had been traveling in the right direction, there should be one near.

He had only walked past a few other trees before he found it. It was small, only marked because it was the only one for kilometers around, the only one in the forest. Getting to his knees hurt, but he ignored it. Will set the water skin down, and bent forward. Splashing his face with the cool water shocked him, waking him up from his daze. He did it a few more times, just to get the grime off his face, and to make sure he was awake. Finally, after that, he picked up his water skin to fill it.

It was halfway filled when something caught his eye.

Someone stood in the river, upstream from him. Short, long black hair let loose, in a white dress. The dress was long enough where the ends caught in the water, dampening the bottom. He was far away, and couldn't be one-hundred percent sure on who it was . . .

But it looked like Lacey.

But she was dead.

Will stood frozen, unsure what he was seeing. Was it a hallucination from exhaustion? Or was he still dreaming, dreaming that she was still alive?

The skin dropped from his hand, splashing into the stream. Will flinched, and quickly floundered in the water to catch it before the current could take it away from him.

When he looked up, the specter was gone.

* * *

It was still early when Will finally caught up with them.

They hadn't been trying to travel fast, but they still seemed to make good speed, even loaded down as they were. Brian must've called a stop, because they were already setting up a fireplace, and Yelsa and Diana were preparing some food.

Deciding to get a closer look, Will dismounted Tug, and slipped forward.

"Will?" a small voice called from behind him. He turned, hoping that no one else had heard.

Behind him, Lacey was waving back towards the direction of Ostar. How she was even doing so, because her body still lay in Ostar, didn't make much sense. Even if she was some type of ghost, come back from the dead to help him find her killer, why would she be motioning back _towards_ Ostar, and not towards the people right in front of him? Was he wrong? The footprints were underneath the tree she had been hanged, so how could he be? Not many tracks were nearby, so it's not like he could have confused them.

Either way, Will shook his head at the little girl, and turned back to where Brian and his family were still setting up.

Except when he turned back, they were all staring at him.

 _Directly_ at him.

He remained still, hoping that they would just believe they had seen something, rather than actually see him.

Brian dashed his hopes, when he called, "Ranger Will? Is that you?"

Will backed away, considering if he should go forward, and talk to them, or get the hell out of there. He couldn't know for sure that they knew what had happened, let alone had anything to do with it. But the way they had just left made them all the more suspicious, without telling Will, or coming to talk at least once.

He took another slow step back, but then something cracked behind him.

And everything went black.

* * *

All he knew was that his head _hurt._

And that someone thought it would be a good idea to yell his name, _over and over and over_ again!

"Will! Uncle Will, wake up! Please, Uncle, open your eyes!"

Why did he know that voice? And since when did someone call him Uncle?

But he did know someone who called him Uncle, didn't he? Lacey.

Lacey, the little girl, daughter of his friends Isla and Liam, who had been killed for some unknown reason.

Will cracked his eyes open, his head throbbing. He would have a concussion, and a damn headache for days after this. That is, if he survived.

He was being dragged, that much he could tell. It was dark, so it must be night. Except it had been early morning when he was taken. How long had he been out? He tried to move his hands, to feel around him, but found that they were tied tightly behind his back. It strained his arms, putting unnecessary pressure on the wrists and his muscles. Whoever dragged him held him underneath the armpits, stretching his arms more, making them hurt more. His shoulder, where he figured his collarbone was broken, throbbed, and something seemed to poke out through his clothes, wanting to tear the shirt. The pain was nearly unbearable.

Roughly, someone threw back his hood, which must've draped across his head earlier, or they just never took it off. Something coarse slipped around his neck, making it itch. When the people let his shoulders go, he dropped limply to the ground, and that's when the felt the pressure.

Falling to his knees, as he was somewhat conscious, Will waited for something to happen. Voices spoke, but he couldn't understand what they were saying, the words swaying in and out. Again, someone roughly grabbed his hood, jerking it, and causing him to loose balance. Will fell, landing on his face and chest, pushing the air out of his lungs. Cloth tore. They gave the hood another jerk, ripping the cowl from the cloak.

Then whatever lay around his neck tightened.

It was a rope.

 _They're going to hang me,_ Will realized. _And I'm helpless to defend myself._

He tried kicking his feet, but whoever had torn his cloak had already back away. They must've looped the rope up and over the branches, so all they had to do was pull on it to lift him.

The rope— _noose_ —tightened more, and soon enough, he was pulled off his side. He tried to support himself on his legs, but the loss of air and the hit to the head weakened him. He couldn't support himself.

His legs straightened, and soon enough—his feet were off the ground.

He couldn't breathe. The pressure was insufferable. Soon, his already dim vision started going black. He was looking down a tunnel, the only thing in his view: the forest. At least he died in a place he liked, where he was at home in.

The rope snapped.

Nothing caused the rope to snap, though.

Halt's eyes widened, from where he lay in his hiding spot. He couldn't see what was happening, but just seeing the rope snap with nothing causing it made him pause.

Then he heard the scream.

"Found you," the grizzled Ranger whispered to himself, crawling forward as fast as he could. As he stood, he realized that he had been watching his apprentice get hanged, and his gut dropped. What would he find?

Whipping out an arrow, he nocked it, drawing the bow back before he was out of the bushed. When he broke out, he didn't know what to make of the scene he saw.

Will lay on the ground, his shoulder soaked in blood—dry and new—and his boot was ripped up, as well as his clothes being caked in mud. And there was a noose around his neck. One man stood above him, face full of fury, a sword raised. Will didn't move, his hands bound, his head planted to the ground.

Halt released.

The arrow slammed into the man's wrist, the distance and the poundage behind the bow throwing the arrow through it, only to be lost in the forest behind them.

The man screamed, and dropped the sword. His other hand flashed up, gripping his limp wrist.

Below him, the sword dropped next to Will's head, who didn't even move.

Moments later, Halt had another arrow nocked and pointed towards the man who had been pulling the rope.

His hands were up, dropping the rope, before Halt said a single word.

* * *

Apparently, Will found out when he finally woke up, Halt had only been a day or two behind him when he originally left for Ostar. The grizzled Ranger arrived it the day Will left it, and found Isla and Liam still mourning their dead child's body, which hadn't even been buried yet. Not wanting to hurt them more, Halt only quizzed lightly, asking where Will had went, and if he had a lead as to what happened. Neither Isla nor Liam knew where he went, but they both said that he left with a purpose, and had been working diligently up until then.

They pointed the way for him to go, but before he left, Isla, her face still tracked with tears, grabbed his arms.

"He's hurt," she said quietly, "I don't know where, or how, but he was limping, and he held his right arm to his chest."

Hearing what happened to his apprentice, knowing that the people he spoke to were his friends, and seeing the dead girl's body, dread filled Halt's body. Would Will act rashly in this type of situation? Why would he keep going if he was hurt? He set out right away, following a pair of hoof tracks that he recognized as Tug's. The Ranger followed for some time, worried with how far he had traveled in one day. He pushed Abelard past where he saw Will had stopped, seemingly only for a few hours. He would be exhausted.

Abelard was fresher than Tug, who had had to go two nights without rest, along with a full day and a half. So when Halt found Tug alone, grazing in a field of grass, he knew something was wrong. Will wouldn't have left him without knowing he could come back, and retrieve him. So he must be nearby?

Soon enough, he found a small camp of people. When he approached, after making sure Will was nowhere around, bound or otherwise, a tall, darker skinned older man stood, and introduced himself as Brian. A quick exchange brought the news to Halt that they had _seen_ Will, but he disappeared in the forest, and two of his people went after him. None had returned yet.

Once again, Halt had only tracks to go by. He felt his heart in his throat the entire way, seeing the marks in the ground where they had dragged him. Blood spattered the ground here and there, and the grizzled Ranger had no doubt who's blood it was.

A few hours later, Halt found himself hiding underneath the bush, wondering what they were using the rope for.

Now that Will was safe and alive, however injured, there was less stress on his shoulders.

His apprentice was curled up at the base of a tree, nursing the arm that had to deal with a broken collarbone for two nights and a day and a half. His leg was propped up, the infection stopped and treated. Unfortunately, there was also a bandage wrapped around his head, blood staining the back.

Nico and Alonzo sat bound at the hands and feet, Alonzo with a less-than-satisfactory wrap around his wrist.

"Why were you killing these people?" Halt growled, leaning forward.

Both of the men shrunk back, and looked to each other to reply. Eventually, when neither of them did, they turned back to Halt, wary defiance in their eyes.

"Did the family you traveled with know about your 'hobby'?"

A shake of the head—a soft look went into Nico's eyes, and he seemed to be recalling something. Mary, Will assumed, remembering the look the two had shared when he had first met them.

Scoffing, Halt glanced back to Will. A message passed between the two Rangers, Halt seeing the fury in Will's eyes, despite his silence, and nodding as a promise.

Halt turned back to the men. "Okay, so maybe it was some sick pleasure that got the two of you started on murdering full towns of people, but even sickos have got to stop somewhere. And apparently you two chose to take it too far, and kill a young girl? Is that right?" The longer he spoke, the lower he let his voice drop.

Fear was evident in Nico and Alonzo's eyes, but the moment Halt said _kill a young girl_ , the fear was overcome by . . . confusion?

"Why're you confused," Will interjected, his eyes fixed on the two of them.

Once again, they exchanged a glance, before Nico responded, "We didn't kill a young girl."

Before Will could get up, Halt held up a hand between his apprentice and the two prisoners. "Explain."

And so they began to tell a story. Of how one day, a man came to buy some of the rope they used, the one with a special twist and braids that made it so unique. They didn't know his name, and he wouldn't explain why he needed a certain strand of rope, nor why he came to them in the first place. When asked to describe the customer, the two exchanged a look again, and this time Alonzo picked up, because apparently he had been closer to Yelsa, who had been selling the rope. Dark, medium tanned skin, dark eyes. Didn't seem to be from around here.

A tendency to say rude things without realizing what he was saying until _after_ he said them.

* * *

Ignoring the pain, Will stepped up the stairs on Isla's front porch with no help from Halt. He could feel the older Ranger's worried stare on his back, but Will didn't turn to comfort him or tell him not to worry. Halt knew who's house this was, and knew that the girl who died had lived here.

Stiffly, he knocked on the door with his bad arm, which he had refused to let Halt restrain. At least for the day, Will would need both arms free.

Just as he expected, it wasn't Liam or Isla who opened the door, but one of the many mourning friends. Practically the entire town was in mourning because of Lacey's early passing, and since everyone practically knew everyone else, Isla and Liam were barely alone until someone else came knocking.

Sebastian was the one who opened the door.

Will smiles, shoving his hands into his pockets as if he was never hurt. "How're Isla and Liam doing?" At that, Will tried to move past him, but Baz's arm came out, blocking him.

His sleeve came up enough for a bloody bandage to show itself at his wrist. "They're as fine as any other parent who just lost their only child," he said, a superior air to him.

From behind Baz, Will heard Liam call down the hallway: "Seb? Who's at the door?"

"Mind telling me how you cut yourself?" Will asked quietly, leaning in towards the man who blocked the door.

Baz dropped his arm, quickly covering the bandage back up. "What the hell do you want?"

Shrugging, Will looked over Baz's shoulder, seeing Liam down the hall. "Oh," he paused, looking back to Baz, "I was just wondering what kind of fucked up sick asshole would kill a little girl as payment for a debt?"

Realization dawned on him a moment too late, just as Will's fist connected with his jaw.

* * *

Glancing over to Will, Halt sighed. "Was it worth it?"

Will shrugged his shoulders, but winced seconds later. His shoulder still throbbed from the attack in the forest, and his hand was now wrapped in bandages, blood staining the knuckles. Even worse, he was know aware that the cut in his leg was infected, and he couldn't put too much weight on it without it collapsing.

Still, though, Will turned to Halt with a grim smile on his face. "If it wasn't illegal to do to that bastard what he did to Lacey, believe me, I would have done it," he snapped.

Out of the corner of his eye, Will spotted movement. Without moving his head, he looked over to the side of the path, and caught sight of a young girl, with long black hair, and wearing a slightly ruffled white dress. Now turning his head completely, he pulled Tug to a stop.

Lacey smiled, and waved to him. _Goodbye, Uncle,_ he heard in his head. Her voice still held her immutable curiosity and constant joy, even in her current circumstance.

Raising his hand, Will smiled sadly at the young girl.

At that, she seemed to giggle, her face lighting up. Then, she spun on her heels, and skipped deeper into the forest. And then—she was gone.

"Will?" Halt called from further up the path. Will looked up, surprised. Halt hadn't noticed he'd stopped, and now was a good ten meters away. "Everything okay?"

Shaking his head to clear it, Will looked once more back to where he'd seen Lacey. But no one stood there, and there was no sign that anyone had been there recently.

Smiling, Will gripped Tug's reins tighter. Pushing the small horse into a trot, Will called back, "Coming!"


End file.
